


Introduction

by Izzyfandoms



Series: Spooky Sanders' Haunted House [1]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Human, Angels, Blood, Demons, Gen, Ghosts, Guardian Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 10:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzyfandoms/pseuds/Izzyfandoms
Summary: In the middle of the woods stood a mansion: a large, foreboding mansion with pale walls, cracked windows and creaking hallways. It somehow felt both lived-in and abandoned at once – cold, but warm; repulsive, but inviting. It was the very definition of an oxymoron.





	Introduction

In the middle of the woods stood a mansion: a large, foreboding mansion with pale walls, cracked windows and creaking hallways. It somehow felt both lived-in and abandoned at once – cold, but warm; repulsive, but inviting. It was the very definition of an oxymoron.

There was a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the mansion, as there often was, though these people had actually paid to be there, unlike those who sometimes showed up out of nowhere, uninvited, who had to be scared away. The mansion’s inhabitants were good at scaring people away, but that also often led to people wanting to come back, so it wasn’t always helpful.

Leading up to the front door of the mansion was a short, but elaborate, set of stairs: five large white steps, covered in cracks and moss that never seemed to go away, no matter how much they’d tried to get rid of it. At the top of this staircase stood a teenager, who looked to be about seventeen at most, dressed head-to-toe in black, with accents of silver and yellow, and with vitiligo covering one side of his face.

The boy leant on a decorative cane as he looked over the dozen-or-so people in front of him – they’d checked their tickets with the not-actually-24-year-old man who stood by the front gates. He grinned as they shifted awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

This would be fun.

“Greetings, Ladies, Gentlemen and those of you who know better, and welcome… to the Sanders’ family mansion. Now, some like to speculate that my family’s home is haunted by the ghost of our father – the world-famous actor, Thomas Sanders – as his death was as mysterious as his past, but I disagree. I have it on good authority that my father’s soul is up in heaven, where it belongs. No, the things that haunt my home are far more unpredictable.” His smile widened, baring his teeth. “We’re just lucky they haven’t decided to kill us yet.”

He paused for another second or two to gauge his audience’s reactions, before turning suddenly and pushing the large wooden doors open. They creaked noisily, and an ominous gust of wind shot out from the inside, tracing icy fingers down everyone’s spines and dancing through their hair.

The boy then motioned with his cane for the group to follow him inside.

“Follow me.” He instructed. “Don’t wander off. Don’t go upstairs. Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to. We have eyes everywhere; you won’t get away with anything… untoward.”

He glanced back at them for a moment, eyes shining. “And, most importantly, try not to die. We don’t need to add another ghost to the collection.”

Once they were all inside, the doors slammed shut and the lights went out, engulfing them in darkness. A childish giggle rang through the air as another new voice whispered from all around them:

“You’ll regret this.”

***

Virgil wandered down one of his mansion’s many corridors – he’d never get used to the ‘his’ part of that phrase, he may be the oldest Sanders sibling at twenty-two years old (and the only adult in the house, as Remy and Emile didn’t count) and therefore the owner of the place, but, to him, it would always be their father’s.

He half-heartedly tapped at his phone, typing out a message to his friend, Toby, and scowling slightly when the Wi-fi stopped working, which was an unfortunately common occurrence in this place. He didn’t look up when he reached the end of the hallway, pulling a door open and stepping inside. It immediately slammed shut behind him, and only then did he glance away from his phone, one eyebrow raised.

His eyes widened slightly.

The bookshelves were empty, their contents swirling across the ceiling, in a constant state of chaotic movement, though they seemed undamaged, none of the covers missing or pages falling out. The closet in the corner was rattling violently and the TV showed only deafening static, dark blood leaking out the bottom of the screen. In the centre of it all sat Virgil’s twelve-year-old brother, Roman, curled up on the couch, knees to his chest, his back to his brother as he mumbled to himself.

All of a sudden, his head twisted around 180 degrees to face Virgil. His eyes were dead – pupils white – and his nose was bleeding. He opened his mouth to let out an ear-splitting screech, and that’s when Virgil finally snapped out of his daze, blinking a few times in surprise before he frowned disapprovingly.

“Remus, give Roman control of his body back. You had it during the tour, and he needs to do his homework. You can have it back later.”

Remus’s scream continued for another moment or two, before his jaw snapped shut and his head spun back into place. He shook it a few times before he turned back to Virgil, his eyes alive and normal again, though he was pouting.

“Aww, come on, Virge.” Roman whined. “Don’t be such a royal pain, we were having fun!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, reaching out and ruffling his younger brother’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. Just go do your homework, kid.” He then turned to the TV. “Patton, get out of there and clean up that blood, you’re going to break it.”

The static stopped, the screen going black, and, a few seconds later, a tiny nine-year-old boy climbed out of the television, dressed in a blood-stained grey cat onesie and large round glasses. They were cracked, but he never seemed to notice.

Patton beamed widely – too widely – when he landed on the ground, picking up the tiny toy cat that lay beside the TV. It was grey, white and missing an eye, with half of its fur matted with what used to be blood. He ran up to Virgil, wrapping his tiny arms around the man’s legs in a hug. The television re-absorbed all of the blood as he grinned up at his pseudo-older brother.

“Where’s Janus?” He asked, voice as glitchy as ever.

Virgil hummed in thought, patting the young boy’s head as best he could. “Uh, he should be back in his room? I don’t-”

Patton disappeared before he could finish, and the toy cat dropped to the ground. Virgil sighed, picking it up and putting it in his hoodie pocket, he could return it later. He then turned to the still-shaking wardrobe.

“Logan, I know you’re in there. I’m not sure how Remus dragged you into this mess, but I bet Remy had something to do with this, too.”

The books circling the ceiling suddenly paused mid-air, before slowly floating back towards the bookshelf and arranging themselves alphabetically, much neater than they’d been prior to this. The closet then stopped shaking and fifteen-year-old Logan stepped out. He looked about the same as usual, apart from the small blue horns on his head and the matching demonic tail that was curled around one of his legs.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I apologise, Virgil, but Remy had nothing to do with this, actually, not that he tried to stop it, either. Emile was the one who advised I help out with their little… prank, of sorts. It was good practise for my powers. He also suggested I keep my horns and tail out more, he said it would help me become more in touch with my demonic heritage.”

Virgil sighed again. “Of course, he did.” He paused, before continuing. “Speak of the demon, do you know where he is? I haven’t seen him since the tour earlier, and I’m concerned he’s sacrificing a goat somewhere and making a mess of the place.”

Logan shrugged. “Hell, probably.” He flicked his wrist and floated a textbook into his arms. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Virgil, I have some reading I’d like to get back to. Remus interrupted my studies when he’d suggested this failure of a practical joke.” And, with that, he left, his tail and horns disappearing back into his body.

Virgil massaged the bridge of his nose. It could be difficult, sometimes, looking after his two human brothers, two ghosts (one of which had accidentally possessed and couldn’t unpossess his youngest brother) as well as the literal antichrist. He’d say it was worth it, and that they were his family and he loved them, but that didn’t make it any less stressful.

“’Sup, babe, you brooding again? You’ve got your brooding face on.”

Virgil looked up, immediately spotting his literal guardian angel floating above him, loudly slurping a Starbucks coffee. Heaven knows how he got his hands on it – the nearest Starbucks was hours away, and he’d seen Remy just a few minutes prior without the drink.

“Please stop calling me that.” Virgil said dryly, flopping onto the couch and burying his face into one of the cushions.

Remy snorted, wings twitching. “Gurl, we both know I don’t mean it like _that_. You’re cute and all, but angels can’t date their humans.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Since when did you care about the rules? You weren’t supposed to reveal yourself or move in, either, but you still did.”

“Rules are made to be broken.” Remy said seriously, contradicting his earlier statement, but Virgil ignored that fact. “Besides, I’ve got my eye on that cute friend of yours, remember? He’s, like, still single, right?”

“Nate?” Virgil sat up. “Uh… yeah, I think so.”

“Nice, I’m gonna tap that.”

Virgil groaned. “Please don’t.”

Remy’s face turned serious. “There’s literally nothing you can do to stop me.” He floated down until he was laying on the coach, wings folded against his back, his bunny slippers in Virgil’s lap.

“I’m sure I could figure something out.” Virgil snorted. “Janus's got tons of books on the occult, I’m sure he could find some kind of spell to stop an angel from being so horny all the damn time.”

“Excuse you!” Remy gasped loudly, lightly kicking Virgil. “I am _angelic_, thank you very much, I have nothing to do with the occult!”

Just as the latter was about to respond, they were interrupted by a loud bang from the other side of the house. It sounded like it was coming from Janus's room, which was unsurprising, as most suspicious loud noises came from there.

Remy and Virgil exchanged a quick look before jumping up and rushing in that direction. The human out of concern and anxiety, and the angel mostly out of curiosity. They bumped into both Roman and Logan on the way, who followed them to Janus's room.

It looked normal from the outside – the door had been painted black during Janus's goth phase (which wasn’t quite over yet, to be honest) – but there was no way of guessing what was going on inside.

Virgil reached for the door handle, but it burst open before he could lay a hand on it. Six dark shapes shot past them – Remy only just about managing to catch the 22-year-old before he fell – and they each ran off in different directions, presumably scattering all around the house, screeching loudly as they went.

“Shit.” Janus swore, and everyone turned to look at him.

He was sitting in the centre of the room, beside a broken pentagram that still looked damp – it was newly painted – and one of his many, _many_ books on the occult. There were black candles everywhere, though only about half of them were lit, and Patton was peeking out from behind the teenager, eyes wide and mouth in a small o-shape.

“Demons.” Remy said. “You summoned six demons. What, wasn’t Emile enough for you?”

Virgil blinked a few times in surprise, before his face settled into a disapproving expression. Janus half-smiled sheepishly.

“Uh… woops?”

“Again, Janus?” Virgil scolded. “This is the third time this week, seventh this month, you’re dealing with this on your own.” He then turned on his heel and stomped back to his room.

Remy followed quickly after, and both Roman and Logan returned to their own rooms as well, leaving Janus and Patton alone again. They exchanged a glance.

Patton blinked owlishly at him before disappearing too.

Janus sighed, picking himself up off the floor and dusting himself off. This would be a long evening.


End file.
